


I Promised You The World

by Seffius



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: But I'm really adding to the insanity, Gen, I told myself I wouldn't write for this fandom, Insane Wilbur Soot, Post-Election, Pre-Festival, Songfic, but here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seffius/pseuds/Seffius
Summary: “How long ago did I promise you the world, hm? You were going to rule Man– L’manberg after I was gone.” He chuckled sadly. “Well, this is no L’manberg, but it’s yours too, if you want it.” Not that it could ever compare to what he could’ve given his son.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	I Promised You The World

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wouldn't write fanfiction of real people but brainrot go brrrr
> 
> I'm also aware that the song was meant for Tubbo but my brain was meant for insane Wilbur
> 
> Speaking of the song, I encourage you play it when you get to it and continue reading :)

Walls were good. Walls protected the people living within them, and in L’manberg’s case, they created a firm distinction between Wilbur’s friends and his enemies. 

The walls of Pogtopia weren’t the same. They might have served the same symbolic separation in Wilbur’s mind, but they were barren and cold, unlike the fortified structure he’d help build with his own two hands. The walls of this ravine were of a hole he’d dug himself and his allies into: walls he was forcefully confined in. Could they protect them the way the walls of L’manberg did? 

Could they protect Fundy? 

A shivering Fundy lied under a thin blanket, asleep. The walls of the tiny room were mined out, and only a singular lantern lit the dim room. Nothing pained Wilbur more than seeing his own son sleeping in such dismal quarters. It filled him with such shame and regret he could hardly stand it, though he'd done too much running in his life for him to not face how he'd affected his son. This wasn’t the type of place someone of his lineage should’ve been sleeping in. A president’s son should sleep on a large bed with fine sheets and an elegant blanket surrounded by smoothe, silk curtains on a marble floor. 

“But you’re not the president’s son…” Wilbur whispered to himself. 

Fundy stirred in his sleep, but his father’s words did not wake him. 

A pained smile appeared on Wilbur’s lips. “How long ago did I promise you the world, hm? You were going to rule Man– L’manberg after I was gone.” He chuckled sadly. “Well, this is no L’manberg, but it’s yours too, if you want it.” Not that it could ever compare to what he could’ve given his son.

“You hate me, don’t you. You wish your old man had put up more of a fight instead of running away. I get it. And I will put up a fight, Fundy. Even if my promises don’t mean much, I’ll give Manberg a blow they’ll never forget. And after that...” After that, he didn’t know. Perhaps he’d disappear, and hand the power vacuum he’d form for Fundy to fill. Or Tommy. It didn’t matter after that. Nothing did. 

“And after that, you can have whatever you want. You can even leave me and go off on your own. I wouldn’t blame you. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you left right now to join Manberg. You know maybe…” he clenched his teeth. “Maybe that’s what I deserve for making empty promises.” 

There was a silence. Wilbur refrained from continuing his already useless monologue, and Fundy kept breathing steadily in his sleep. 

“I don’t hate you, dad.” 

Wilbur swore he heard it, but when he looked up at Fundy, he was still in a deep slumber, unmoved, undisturbed. 

Wilbur’s lips gently curved upwards as he took a seat at the edge of Fundy’s bed, caring eyes set upon his sleeping son and hand resting on the bed.

_Hush, love_

_Hold on to your sashes_

_And dream of the day_

_When Jschlatt leaves_

_And dashes through the door~_

_L’manburg will rejoice once more_

* * *

Tubbo seemed to have heard it at the same time Tommy did, since they both turned to look at each other the moment they heard the singing echo from downstairs. It was unmistakably Wilbur’s voice, though there was something off putting about hearing him sing since they couldn’t really recall the last time he’d done something like that. Slowly, they creeped down the stairs, following the source of the sound. They seemed to be on the same page, which was to try and figure out what was going on. 

Gradually they traced the singing to a small mined out room towards the direction of the tunnels. Cautiously, they turned their heads to peak into the room, in which they found Wilbur seated at the edge of a bed, soothingly singing a lullaby and caressing the blanket as he glanced towards the head of the bed with both love and affliction in his eyes, as if singing to comfort a hurt child. 

There was no one else there with him. 

_Doze off_

_And hope for our future_

_Don’t underestimate_

_Pogtopia’s potential to soar_

_We’ll see the light after the war…_

If it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen this before, perhaps Tommy would be more befuddled by the performance he walked in on, but now he understood clearly. It had been a reoccurring habit for Wilbur to do this ever since he first lost it. He’d apparently not only lost all hope to reclaim his nation, but he’d also been in denial about his own son's rejection and betrayal. Of course, he wasn’t convinced that anyone was really on his side, and perhaps he was telling the truth when he said it didn’t matter to him, but he couldn’t seem to fathom his own son wanting nothing to do with him. 

Tommy shook his head. “This is getting worse, I’m going in there to snap some sense into him,” he whispered before he started into the room, however a hand on his shoulder held him back. Tommy turned back to Tubbo shaking his head urgently. 

“Don’t. Let him think what he wants.” Tubbo sounded self-assured, but his countenance had worry written all over it. 

Then Tommy remembered. This was a very different experience for Tubbo than it was for Tubbo. He hadn't been around all that much. And yet Tubbo understood. “Right, you weren’t here the night the festival was announced. You didn’t hear him… when he… I’m so sorry you’ve got to see this, Tubbo.” 

Lips pressed together, he shook his head. “It makes sense. I just hope he doesn’t go off the rails and hurts someone for the sake of hurting them. You said it yourself, Tommy, we can’t give up on him.” 

“I know, I know.” Glancing back into the dimly lit room, he could still see Wilbur’s tender smile as he sang for his son. His despondent gaze turned to the floor. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someone teach me how to embed audio pls
> 
> Also please go support [bakoozla](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSuUl4ZoGvSQfDkmSad6ZFQ) and her very lovely, very underrated songs and animatics!


End file.
